


Day's Journey Done

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:45:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: No such thing as time off...





	Day's Journey Done

Christmas dawned under a heavy sky. Scudding clouds spat out freezing moisture and an angry wind turned the precipitation into an icy mizzle. Ray Doyle sighed with irritation as a strong gust of air blew stinging drops against the exposed skin of his face. A cold, reddened hand wiped at his eyes. Chilly water dripped from his hair and snaked down the back of his neck. He tightened the scarf around his throat. The scarf. Bodie’s gift. The start of this whole mess.

❄ ❄ ❄

 

Twelve hours his Lordship had been held captive. Bloody Bodie.

The case they’d been working on had blown up on them allowing one Alan Ivers and his gang another few days of freedom. Cowley, while letting them know, (and rather creatively, too,) what he thought of their losing the men that had been effectively dancing around CI5’s traps for the past 11 days, had dismissed them until Boxing Day. Taking advantage of the reprieve, they’d decided to go to the shops to get the makings for their Christmas dinner. A light snow fell as they walked the ten blocks from HQ to the high street. Wandering with no real plans, they found themselves enveloped in the merriment of holiday shoppers enjoying a celebration outside the “Tilted Kilt” pub. Doyle laughed out loud as they watched pipers piping and drummers drumming, enthusiastically encouraged by the office workers holding their Christmas parties inside.

“Feels like we’re living in a song, eh?” He bumped shoulders with Bodie.

Bodie rubbed his hands together with glee. “Looking forward to the next verse, I am,” he said with a leer.

“Berk. No maids’d be interested in you.”

“You’re just jealous, mate. Chances are, if I go in there, I’ll be swimming in birds.” Bodie looked Doyle up and down. “Might even be willing to share...”

“Oh, no.” Doyle smirked. “The only one laying you tonight is me.”

A sharp intake of breath from behind Doyle had Bodie in stitches. Doyle turned quickly, face warm, and said, “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to offend.” The woman huffed and walked away, looking back over her shoulder at them with a scowl several times until she disappeared in the spirited crowd.

Bodie finally caught his breath and wheezed, “Can’t take you anywhere, Ray.” Doyle, still a bit red about the cheeks, started walking away from the pub.

Bodie caught up with him, staying quiet until Doyle shrugged off his embarrassment. Doyle stopped abruptly in front of the Garrard jewellery store. “You know,” he prodded Bodie’s chest with a stiff finger, “you could make an honest man of me for Christmas.” He nodded towards the rings in the window with a wistful smile curving his lips.

Bodie’s expression softened; the teasing tone left his voice as he whispered softly, “Would if I could, Angelfish.”

Doyle’s eyes dropped to his shoes. “I know.” He shook his head, and then looked up at Bodie. “I guess we’ll have to keep up the pretence with the birds for a while longer, yeah?”

Bodie smiled and brushed snow out of Doyle’s curls. Doyle shivered at the touch. Bodie raised an eyebrow.

“Just cold,” Doyle explained.

“I’ve got just the thing for that,” Bodie ran across the street to a cart vendor selling knit scarves. He picked out the brightest red and black plaid one on the cart and held it out to Doyle. “Happy Christmas, mate.”

Bodie settled the scarf around Doyle’s neck.

Doyle started to say thank you when he felt Bodie freeze. “What?”

“Ivers.” Bodie replied. “There.” Bodie nodded towards four men loitering in front of a bank.

“You sure?”

“Look at them. Not many others on the street dressed all in black – and one a ginger. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Ray.”

“Okay. Let’s call it in. Get some back-up.” Doyle pulled his R/T out of his pocket and turned his back to the people on the street.

Bodie stepped in front of Doyle to shield him from view and watched over Doyle’s shoulder as a young mother bundled her children through the bank’s door. She reminded him of a hen gathering her chicks. Ivers’ gang followed the family into the bank. Bodie felt a cold dread grow in his guts that had nothing to do with the weather. He stepped away from Doyle and growled, “Can’t wait, Ray. I’m going in now.”

“Bodie!” Doyle protested and tried to grab Bodie’s sleeve as the man slipped away. “Damn you, Bodie.” Doyle quickly finished the call to CI5 and followed his imprudent partner - cursing him all the way.

 

❄ ❄ ❄ 

“What have you two got yourselves involved in now? You can’t even manage to stay out of trouble on your day off!” Cowley was shouting before he’d even exited the Cortina. Several more cars filled with CI5 agents pulled in behind him.

“Ivers, sir. He has Bodie in the bank.” Doyle nodded towards the building across the street. He’d been ordered by Ivers to back away. A gunshot had convinced him to comply.

Cowley glared at him. “Details, man. What is the situation? And what did your partner think he was doing?”

“Ivers and three of his gang holed up in the bank. At least four civilians, three of them children, entered the bank just before Bodie took off.”

“Damn fool.” Cowley muttered, brushing snow off the brim of his hat with a displeased frown.

“Not sure how many bank employees are in there,” Doyle continued, ignoring the interruption. “The Met is on its way as well.”

Cowley’s head jerked up in surprise. “Who called them?”

“Not sure. A shot was fired. A good samaritan may have called, or maybe there was an alarm from inside the bank.”

“Have they made any demands?”

“The usual. A getaway car and a clear run to the river.”

“Hrrrmph.” Cowley turned his stare to the bank. “Amateurs. It’s not like Ivers.”

“Maybe he felt a bit cocky after he...” Doyle paused.

“Yes, do go on,” Cowley pushed.

“...after he caught on to our plans for him.”

“The plans that the two of you neglected to inform the rest of CI5 about, that almost got you killed and cost us a chance to put Ivers away for a good long time? Those plans, 4.5?”

“Erm...yes sir. Those would be the ones.”

❄ ❄ ❄  

And now, twelve hours later, Doyle stood in the cold chill of Christmas morning, Cowley beside him and a team of CI5 agents surrounding a small bank. A Range Rover was parked in the street in front of the besieged building.  
Doyle walked to the front of the vehicle with a loud-hailer.

“Ivers. Transportation’s here. The Met has cleared a B road. We’ve kept our end of the deal. It’s your turn to show some cooperation. Release the hostages.”

The door opened and nine people ran out of the bank. A woman and three small children were followed by five people in business attire. Bodie was not among those freed.

“We seem to be short one person,” Doyle shouted.

“He's my insurance that you bastards are going to honour your promises. I’ll keep this one with me until we’re clear,” Ivers responded unapologetically.

“I’ll need to see him before we finish the deal. Need to know we’re not trading for a corpse.”

Minutes passed and Doyle was on edge, afraid that Bodie had been a victim of the gunshot he’d heard earlier. The bank door opened slowly. Bodie appeared first, followed by Ivers, holding a gun to Bodie’s side. Doyle felt the muscles in his chest relax a bit and let out a breath he’d felt he’d been holding for hours. Bodie appeared to be annoyed, but unhurt.

Doyle swallowed a small grin at seeing Bodie’s narked expression.

“Treating you all right, are they?” Doyle called out.

Bodie rolled his eyes. “Got a traditional Christmas dinner waiting for me inside – with all the trimmings. So don’t keep me out here nattering, eh?”

Doyle met his eyes. “Got your back, mate.” His gaze shifted to the scarf vendor’s cart at Bodie’s right.

The gunman poked at Bodie with his weapon. “Enough. Back inside.”

As Bodie turned he waved at Doyle waggling three of his fingers. He was pushed back through the doorway. Ivers met Doyle’s eyes and said, “We’ll take our leave in ten minutes. No tricks or he’s a dead-man.” He followed Bodie back inside the bank. The door shut behind them.

Doyle stepped back to Cowley beside the Cortina. “Bodie doesn’t look any the worse for wear. He indicated only three thugs to worry about,” he raised his hand in a parody of Bodie’s earlier wave. “Bodie must have taken one of them out before he was caught.” Doyle unholstered his weapon and checked the slide. “Bodie’ll go for the vendor’s cart when the shooting starts.”

“All right, get ready” Cowley said loudly enough for his agents to hear. They’d move when Ivers’ gang exited the bank.

❄ ❄ ❄  

It was all quickly over. Ivers pushed Bodie through the open door. Bodie stumbled and dove for the ground. Doyle put a bullet through Ivers’ shoulder, knocking him into the man behind him. They both went down in a tangle of limbs. Seeing they were outnumbered and at a disadvantage, the remaining two gang members raised their hands in surrender.

Bodie crawled out from beneath the street trader’s cart where he’d taken cover, brushing off dirt and wincing at the wetness soaking the knees of his trousers. Doyle walked over and offered him a hand up.

“Nice shooting, 4.5,” Bodie bowed. “Two birds with one stone – er, bullet.”

Doyle groaned then wiped snow off Bodie’s coat. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” Bodie reached out and retied the loose ends of Doyle’s scarf.

Cowley called them over to his car. “While I’m not pleased with the method, the end result is what counts.” He studied them critically for a moment, and then nodded. “I want your reports on my desk within the hour.” He held up a hand to cut short their protest. “Then you may resume your leave.”

“Sir.”

They stood together in the gathering snow as Cowley and the rest of the CI5 crew gathered their prisoners and drove away.

“I never did get a chance to thank you for this,” Doyle smiled as he idly played with the fringe of his new scarf.

“My pleasure, sunshine. But,” Bodie pouted, “what about my pressie?”

“Well, the shop was out of partridges and pear trees...”

“Doyle.”

“Well, since we’ve finally wrapped up the Ivers case, I was wondering how you’d fancy a silent night?”

Bodie swung an arm around Doyle’s shoulder. He took a quick glance back at the glittering display in Garrard’s window and lightly patted his jacket pocket. With a knowing smile, he started to quietly sing, “O Come all ye Faithfull...”

“Or,” Doyle grinned, “maybe not so silent.”

❄ ❄ ❄  

[](https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/merentha13/21454005/187441/187441_original.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to loxleyprince for the beautiful artwork!


End file.
